How Much
by Layla Reyne
Summary: Damon is on his way out of town when he's wrangled into participating in a holiday bachelor auction. Will Elena's jealousy get the best of her? What will she win, exactly, and will Damon deliver? "Family" members past and present conspire to make this a holiday to remember for DE. Written for LJ A2A Delena Holiday Exchange.
1. Part I

**How Much**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Summary**: Damon is on his way out of town when he's wrangled into participating in a holiday bachelor auction. Will Elena's jealousy get the best of her? What will she win, exactly, and will Damon deliver? "Family" members past and present conspire to make this a holiday to remember for DE. Written for LJ A2A Delena Holiday Exchange.

**A/N**: Written as a thank you for the many amazing hours of enjoyment that Dancing in the Dark provided me this past year… For Chelley's (chellethebelle) LJ A2A Delena Holiday Exchange Prompt:

_After having his love for Elena thrown back into his face one too many times, he's finished with MF. But before he goes, he's wrangled into participating in a Christmas bachelor auction. Elena shows up and when some woman starts bidding on him, she can't stop herself from getting jealous and competing against the woman to win Damon. When she wins, Damon is pissed with all of her mixed signals and forces her to confront her feelings or leave him alone. All whilst doing whatever Christmas themed date Damon offered for the auction._

Canon through Episode 4X06 and then I took some liberties with the story/time lines – Elena decided to stay with Caroline, no Delena sex (yet) and definitely no sire bond!

_**Special thanks to Morgan (morvamp) for providing super-duper last minute beta assistance on this story. Be sure to check out her many entertaining works as well!**_

**Disclaimer**: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.

* * *

**Part I**

"What's up, Doc?"

Meredith halted in her tracks, spotting the blue-eyed, raven-haired vampire headed down the hospital corridor in her direction. Her shoulders tightened, her jaw clenched, her free hand fisted, and she was sure he heard her heartbeat quicken. She wondered for the umpteenth time if this reaction, the same one she always had when he appeared out of nowhere, was some innate fear and loathing of vampires that came with the last name Fell or if it was just her experience with this particular vampire and the chaos that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Exhaling slowly, she released that automatic rush of tension and crossed her arms over her chest, giving him her most exasperated glare and preparing her patience for the inevitable verbal sparring to follow.

"Doesn't that line ever get old?"

"Nope," Damon answered with a smirk, but the teasing tone stopped there, failing to reach his eyes. And on second thought, his gait had lacked its usual confident strut when he'd approached her.

"Need a care-package to-go…for one."

And just like that, it all made sense, but at the same time, it made no sense at all. She knew that Elena and Stefan had broken up – the "benefits" of a ghostly ex-lover and his ghost-whispering charge who'd been to visit her a few weeks ago about internal complications from a non-existent neck wound. And she herself had overheard Elena tell Stefan to let her go on the front lawn of the Lockwood Mansion the day of the Miss Mystic Falls Pageant. Things had definitely looked to be swinging in Damon's favor, so this latest turn of events - him leaving town, alone - surprised her.

"Why now, Damon? I thought you and Elena-"

"Butt out, Doc," he replied, attempting to casually wave her off, but she caught the undercurrent of frustration in his words.

"Kind of hard when I get a running commentary on your life from the great beyond," she countered, purposely baiting him.

"Then why don't you ask _him_ for an explanation," he nearly growled through clenched teeth, crowding into her personal space and leveling her with a deadly glare – an obvious attempt to back her down.

"I would, if I could get a hold of Jeremy," she bit back, holding her ground.

Damon relented at the mention of the boy they were both sworn, one way or another, to protect. He stepped back, turning slightly away from her and swiping a hand through his hair.

"He's fine. Hunter-related complications."

Cautiously putting a hand on his other arm and drawing his attention back to her, she asked, "Is this another pride thing, Damon?"

"No, this is an Elena letting other people dictate her life thing – yet again," he answered wearily. "Look, it'd be better for everyone, Elena included, if I just left for a while."

If history was any indication, Damon leaving town was usually the _worst_ thing for Elena, but this conversation was going to get her nowhere fast. She could tell his mind was made up; she needed a different approach.

Her eye caught sight of the flyer on the wall over his shoulder, and her doctor's mind went into overdrive, a plan starting to form as she assessed how to triage the constant state of trauma otherwise known as Damon and Elena.

"Fine, but I'm collecting payment this time," she stated, meeting his eyes with a determined look.

"Seriously?" He scoffed. "You've got a whole new wing going up with my name on it, and now you're going to start charging me for blood bags. Maybe I should escort _you_ to the psych ward. That is, after all, where I told Ric you belonged."

_There_ was that mischievous glint in his eye that had been missing before. She could work with this.

"Not that kind of payment, Damon," she said, pointing to the flyer behind him that advertised the Hospital's Charity Auction tomorrow night at the Grill.

Giving it a quick glance and then turning back to her, he shrugged. "Fine, I'm sure I can find something suitably kitschy and overpriced back at the Boarding House to donate."

"It's not that kind of an auction, Damon. Read the fine print."

He looked back over his shoulder, reading the flyer carefully this time, and then his head started shaking back and forth. "No way," he said, turning back to her. "Been there, done that, not gonna happen again."

"Didn't you just tell me you're still technically a bachelor?" She challenged, folding her arms across her chest and meeting his angry glare.

Given the tight line of his lips and his pinched brow, she knew he wasn't particularly happy about her calling his bluff. _Too bad_, she thought. A few seconds of their stare-down later, he huffed, rolled his eyes and nodded his head in agreement.

Crowding into his space and grabbing him by the collar of his leather jacket, she pulled him down to eye level. "See you tomorrow night at seven. And wear something nice."

"I'll see what I can do," he leered back, playfully batting her hand away. "What about the blood bags, Doc?"

"Nuh-uh," she replied, wagging a finger at him. "I have to be sure you'll show up. I'll bring them with me."

He shot her an annoyed look, she shot him the middle finger, and neither one of them could stifle their laughter as she walked past him, heading back down the hallway to continue her rounds.

"You drive a hard bargain, Fell."

She was glad he couldn't see the satisfied smirk on her face or the glance skyward that she held for a moment longer than customary. Maybe someone needed to have Damon's back for once, help balance out the scales in his favor. It's what _he_ would have wanted.

* * *

Elena was adjusting the microphone on stage when she felt the air shift around her, a tingle radiating up her spine and her amplified senses kicking into high gear. Despite the crowd of people crammed into the Grill, she could still smell him, almost taste him, and as the sound of his voice carried from across the room, she wanted nothing more than to run to him. Looking up from the podium, their eyes met for a brief moment before Damon turned his attention back to Liz and Carol, not sparing her an extra ounce of attention.

And really, what did she expect? She had told him about the break-up with Stefan, confessed that he was the reason, and then given him the cold shoulder for the past two weeks. She'd been staying with Caroline to avoid any further run-ins with Jeremy, and if she was being honest, with Damon too, while he and Bonnie worked with Shane to reign in her brother's hunter instincts. Caroline had taken full advantage of the new living arrangements, giving her constant pep talks about fighting for her "epic romance" with Stefan, filling her mind with doubts about the break-up and her seemingly-skewed vampire sensibilities. But her heart was relentless in its effort to push her in the opposite direction, toward the passion it so desperately craved.

"Everything okay, Elena?"

Meredith's voice caused her to jump and lower her eyes, embarrassed to have been caught staring. "What's he doing here?" She asked, moving aside so Meredith could take her place at the podium.

"He's one of tonight's bachelors," Meredith answered, and Elena's world was suddenly painted green. She was outraged by the idea of him walking out of here tonight with anyone else but her. But before she could reply, Meredith was speaking again, "Oh, by the way, what are you doing for Christmas Eve? You and Jeremy are welcome to join me at the Fell family gathering, if you like."

"Thanks," she answered with a tight smile, "But I've already invited Matt and April over for dinner, not that anything I cook will be edible. Us orphans have to stick together, you know..." She hoped that Jeremy would be there too, but that remained to be seen, depending on the progress of his hunter detox.

"Can I have our bachelors up here, please," Meredith spoke into the mic, before leaning away from it. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us."

"Thanks again," Elena said, stepping back without looking where she was going and catching her heel in the electrical wires running across the stage. She stumbled, until two cool hands firmly grasped her shoulders from behind, steadying her.

"For a vampire, your coordination leaves something to be desired," he whispered, his lips brushing against the outer shell of her ear and sending shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and her nose was assaulted by the heady mix of leather and bourbon that was uniquely him. She wobbled a little, her knees going weak again.

"Easy there," Damon murmured, holding her tighter until she recovered her balance, and then trailing his hands lightly down her arms. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at him, and for a split second, she saw in his eyes the same need she felt for him reflected back at her. Then he blinked and his cool exterior was firmly back in place, leaving her standing there alone as he sauntered over to join the other bachelors.

"I'd like to thank you all for joining us tonight," Meredith started, and Elena stepped down from the stage and headed straight for the bar.

"Tequila," she demanded, catching the bartender's eye and compelling him to fulfill her order. She quickly drained the shot before anyone could witness her underage drinking in action, and then leaned back against the bar with her elbows, glancing up at the stage. Meredith and Damon appeared to be in a heated argument, away from the podium, but then after a few minutes, Meredith reclaimed her place at the mic, a curious smirk playing on her lips while Damon plastered on his best fake smile behind her.

"Our first bachelor tonight is none other than Mr. Damon Salvatore, who has graciously agreed to prepare a home-cooked Christmas Eve dinner for the lucky winner," she announced, and Elena instantly understood what their argument, Meredith's smirk and Damon's ire had been all about. The good doctor was giving her the chance to get everything she wanted for Christmas – and damn it if she wasn't going to finally listen to her heart and take it. Meredith quickly glanced in her direction and Elena nodded, acknowledging their impromptu complicity with a nod.

Bidding commenced fast and furious, and Elena skirted along the outer edge of the crowd, all the while fuming silently. She knew she had to wait, holding out until the last possible moment so as not to be outbid, but with each hollered dollar amount, her green-eyed monster steadily grew, not to mention the hole in her wallet.

"Here," came a strained voice from beside her, and Matt slipped another shot glass full of Tequila into her hand. "I could hear you growling."

Her eyes widened, mortified that her inner-Hulk had been quite so vocal.

"Kidding," Matt grinned, wiping his hands on the bar towel hanging from his apron. "But you better win this, because I do not want to eat your sorry excuse of a charred turkey tomorrow night."

She couldn't help but laugh, relaxing a little and throwing back the much-needed shot.

"Now, go get him – for all our sakes," he said, giving her a playful jab to the shoulder.

She smiled coyly back at him and offered a mock salute, "Yes, sir."

She weaved back into the crowd, moving toward the front, as Meredith issued the final invitation, "I have five hundred dollars. Do I hear any other bids?"

"One thousand dollars," Elena called out, breaking through the front line of over-eager housewives. She folded her arms across her chest and locked her determined brown eyes with Damon's furious blue ones. The crowd gasped, but her gaze remained trained on his, and if his furrowed brow and clenched jaw were any indication, he was unhappy with this latest stunt of hers.

"A thousand dollars, going once, going twice … sold, to Miss Elena Gilbert," Meredith pronounced with the bang of her gavel, startling them out of their staring contest.

Elena mouthed a "thank you" to Meredith and then hurried after Damon, who was already off the stage and headed for the back exit. He was out the door and in the alley before she caught up with him.

"Damon!" she shouted at his retreating back.

"Why Elena?" He snapped, rounding on her and caging her against the cold brick wall with his body and his outstretched arms.

"Because it's right, right now," she answered, clear and firm, wondering if the relief he felt at hearing those words was anything like the weight that lifted off her chest the moment she spoke them.

"Elena" he sighed, as the fight drained out of him - his arms giving way at the elbows, his head lowering to rest on her shoulder, and his body going slack against hers.

"How long do you think this one will last?" He asked wearily.

Understanding that Damon was referring to her and Stefan's track record of less than permanent break-ups, she threaded her fingers through his hair, aching to reassure him. "It was different this time," she answered. "The world as we know it wasn't about to end, my life wasn't in danger-"

"Don't be silly, Elena," he scoffed, cutting her off and pulling back to give her a raised eyebrow. "Your life is always in danger."

She shrugged, chuckling a little, and the fact that he could still make her laugh after the past few weeks of hell sent a shot of warmth straight to her heart.

"Fine, no immediate danger," she conceded with a small smile before her expression turned serious again, her eyes flickering to the ground, shyly. "And we weren't lying, for anyone else's ears or our own. I told Stefan the truth – finally admitted it."

"What did you admit, Elena?"

"That I'm not the same girl anymore," she replied, her eyes lifting back to his. "That what I want – _who_ I want – has changed."

He let out a deep breath and stepped back a few feet, plowing his fingers through his hair as he began pacing in the alley. "Elena, you've been a vampire for less than a month. You almost died a couple weeks ago. Everything is still fresh, in overdrive. Give yourself some time to settle into this, sort out exactly what is that you want."

"Who, I want Damon, _who_," she countered, coming to stand next to him and halting his movement with a hand on his arm. His eyes slammed shut, lids squeezing together tightly as she smoothed her other hand up his back and into the hair at the nape of his neck, before leaning forward to drop a soft kiss on his shoulder.

"And I don't need more time to understand who's been right beside me from the very beginning." She turned his face toward her, caressing his cheek to coax his eyes back open. "As I said before, it's _you_."

She held his gaze a moment longer before her eyes drifted down to his lips. She rose up on her tiptoes and leaned in closer, their breaths mingling and teasing her senses, her heart. But the instant her lips brushed against his, he tore himself from her embrace and disappeared down the alley, leaving her alone, breathless and unable to utter a single word.

- TO BE CONTINUED -

* * *

_**Reviews, favorites and alerts are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!**_


	2. Part II

**How Much**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**A/N**: Written for LJ A2A Delena Holiday Exchange. See Chapter 1 for prompt. Canon through 4X06 and then I took some liberties with the story/time lines – Elena decided to stay with Caroline, no Delena sex (yet…) and definitely no sire bond!

_**Thanks Morgan (morvamp) for sticking with me to beta the rest of this story! **_

_**And THANK YOU READERS for the reviews, alerts and favorites on this story, Engine Trouble and Two Rocks. I'm really quite overwhelmed by all the love.**_

**Disclaimer**: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.

* * *

**Part II**

"What part of _not qualified_ didn't you understand?"

Looking up from where he'd been sitting for the past half hour, on the stone ledge outside the Salvatores' front door, rolling the bottle of bourbon back and forth between his hands, Matt questioned for the hundredth or so time if he really had any business being here. Meddling in the affairs of others was Caroline's thing – not his.

But really – what was his thing anymore? A year and a half ago, he'd been just another high school jock. Kind of bummed that his childhood sweetheart had dumped him, but his own heartache had been second to his worry for her, especially in the wake of her parents' death. And then as his world had begun to shift, becoming increasingly more complicated by such fantastical things as vampires, witches, werewolves and ghosts, his worry for Elena had steadily grown. So maybe that was his thing – worrying about her.

And _that _was exactly what qualified him to be here.

When he'd finally finished his shift at the Grill an hour ago, leaving through the back door and headed toward the employee parking lot, he'd found Elena huddled against the brick wall of the alley, her knees pulled up to her chest and her head resting on top of them. He'd called out her name, and she'd raised her tear-stained face to him. "I made the wrong choice, Matt," she'd whispered before bursting into sobs, and he'd known exactly which _choice_ she was referring to.

So here he was, face to face with a very old, very irate vampire, not meddling, but rather doing his thing, because he was worried about Elena.

"None of it, apparently," he answered, opting for deference and self-deprecation instead of picking a fight right out of the gate. If he was going to get through to Damon at all, he had to get through the damn front door first. "And I brought the good stuff," he added, holding up the bottle of 23-year-aged Pappy Van Winkle. Silly name, but according to the bartender, it was "the best bourbon to ever come out of Kentucky."

Damon flashed in front of him and snatched the proffered bottle out of his hand, inspecting the label and taking a whiff of its contents. He looked up then, blue staring down blue, and Matt tried his best to keep his expression neutral, not wanting to telegraph his play. A few seconds later Damon gave a slight nod, turned around and headed back into the house, leaving the door open behind him. Figuring that was as good an invitation as any, Matt hopped off the ledge and followed him inside.

"I don't know what game you're playing, Donovan," Damon called from the parlor, "But nice first move."

So much for not telegraphing, Matt thought, as he took a cautionary step into the room.

"Hey man," he replied, holding up his hands, "The only game I play is football."

"Right," Damon drawled in disbelief, handing him a glass of the prized bourbon and sitting down on one of the sofas, placing the bottle on the table in front of him. Matt lowered himself onto the sofa opposite Damon, taking a swig of the bourbon and savoring the subtle burn and charred wood taste, a delicacy he'd only once before enjoyed when he'd helped himself to a bottle of Damon's private stock during Elena's birthday party last summer.

"So nice of you to finally replace that bottle you swiped," Damon smirked, as if reading his mind.

"Least I could do," he shrugged, before leaning back into the cushions.

They sat in silence for several minutes, sipping their bourbon and awkwardly avoiding eye contact, until Damon leaned forward, setting his empty glass on the table next to the bottle and bracing his elbows on his knees.

"So what are you really doing here?" he asked suspiciously, leveling him with a probing gaze.

"I found Elena crying in the alley behind the Grill when I left work tonight," he told him, not wanting to mince words any longer.

"I thought you said you weren't here to play games, quarterback," Damon replied, raising an eyebrow before re-filling his glass.

"Well, I'm calling an audible," Matt countered, downing the rest of his drink and sliding his glass across the table toward Damon, silently asking for a refill.

"Risky," Damon mused, obliging his request and pushing the glass back across the table to him. "Changing your strategy this deep in enemy territory. So what's the play then?"

Growing more confident in his ability to hold his own in this "game" with Damon, he leaned forward, mimicking Damon's posture and staring him down. "You suck it up and apologize to Elena, and then you deliver on what she paid for."

"Why should I be the one to apologize?" Damon snapped, standing suddenly and looming over him. "She's the one that can't make up her damn mind."

"That's a load of horseshit," he bit back, standing to meet Damon's angry glare.

"Excuse me?" he barked, both eyebrows raised.

"I mean, I know she's waffled a bit," Matt backpedaled, deflating a little and sitting back down on the sofa.

"A bit?" Damon scoffed, rolling his eyes and moving to stand in front of the fire, his arms folded across his chest, bottle in hand.

Sensing the vampire's patience was wearing increasingly thin, and if experience had taught him anything, that usually wasn't a good thing where he was concerned – neck wounds, death threats and all considering – he decided to change course again and open up the entire playbook.

"You don't know the whole story, Damon."

"I know enough," he waved dismissively. "I'm out," he added, taking a gulp straight from the bottle.

"You don't know what she told me the night she died, before the accident…"

It was almost imperceptible, but he knew Damon well enough to notice his jaw clench when he mentioned _that night _– the one that was generally considered taboo for polite conversation, especially between the two of them. But fuck it; they were way past the point of polite now. This was two seconds left on the clock, Hail Mary pass for the win time.

Finishing his shot and leaning his head back against the cushions, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sting of the bourbon as it ran down his throat before he spoke again – before he uttered that too truthful fact that she'd confided in him.

"She told me that you consumed her."

"She said that?" Damon gasped, "Those words?"

Matt re-opened his eyes and saw Damon looking at him wide-eyed, clearly affected by this second-hand confession of hers. He was beginning to realize that there was a part of their story, probably a big one, he was missing, but that was neither here nor there. The words, which obviously meant something important to him, to them, had had their intended effect.

He nodded, and then leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands, suddenly weary at having also been reminded of his own role in this whole mess.

"Hell, I'm just as much to blame as Stefan. I knew what she really wanted – _who_ she really wanted – and I still fucking turned that truck around. She was doing what she thought she should do, not what she wanted to do."

"That's our girl," Damon sighed, coming to sit back down on the sofa opposite him. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I love her too," he mumbled, and upon seeing Damon's eyes narrow, he hurried to correct himself. "Not like that, not like you and Stefan, not anymore, but still, I love her and I'm tired of worrying about her. I just want her to be safe and happy. And from what I can tell, and I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I worry less when she's with you, and you seem to make her happy."

Matt exhaled, hanging his head again, more than a little embarrassed by his fit of verbal vomit and once more feeling way too much like Caroline for his own comfort. Worrying, not meddling, he reminded himself.

He was surprised when, a few seconds later, Damon pushed a fresh shot across the table toward him. He looked up to see Damon relaxing back into the cushions and eyeing him with, if his eyes weren't deceiving him, respect and maybe even a little mischief. Matt breathed a sigh of relief. Touchdown, he thought, hiding his smile in his drink.

"So then tell me, all-star quarterback, back to my original question… What exactly is the next play here?" He asked with a smirk. Oh yeah, definitely mischief. This was the Damon he had been hoping to resurrect when he'd had the bordering-on-suicidal idea to come over here in the first place.

"Right now, Elena just wants to have a nice Christmas dinner with the family she's got left," he told him. "Jeremy, you, me and April."

"An orphan-family Christmas?"

"Something like that," he chuckled. "And you and I both know she can't cook worth a damn."

"So that's what she was after – at the auction," he mumbled. "I should have guessed Meredith was in on it too."

Matt nodded as they both rose to their feet. "So, quarterback sneak," he said, calling the play. "I'll get her out of the house for a few hours…"

"Text me when you leave," Damon replied, catching his drift. "I'll take care of the rest."

"Sounds like a plan," he said, heading toward the door.

"You know, Donovan, I might have to reconsider your qualifications in a few years," Damon joked, holding the door open for him. "When you're old enough."

"Yeah, yeah," he chortled, casually waving a hand at Damon as he turned and headed down the drive toward his truck. As he climbed into the cab, he let his game face drop and smiled widely, his worry finally starting to ease.

* * *

"You missed one," Elena said, entering the kitchen from the living room with a glass in her hand. She went to hand it to him, dropped it and then used her newfound vampire speed to catch it before it hit the open dishwasher door.

"Someone's feeling nostalgic," he smiled, recalling when he'd pulled that same stunt the first night he'd set foot in this house.

"And a little sentimental. Can you blame me?" She smiled back at him, and after the past few hours of relative normalcy, he really couldn't.

Their plan had gone off without a hitch. Bonnie had dropped Jeremy off earlier in the afternoon, giving him the all clear, and Matt had convinced Elena, Jeremy and April to go buy a Christmas tree to decorate before dinner.

When they'd returned home, Elena and Jeremy carrying the tree through the front door as if it were light as a feather, he'd been standing over the kitchen island, chopping vegetables with a hand towel slung across his shoulder. She'd stopped dead in her tracks upon seeing him, and Jeremy had comically run into her from behind. She'd yelped, and in that instant, also caught the scent of the various things he'd had working on the stove and in the oven. Her eyes had lit up, and he was certain it was the happiest he'd seen her since her transition, and it'd warmed his heart more than he cared to admit. Jeremy, the consummate cock-blocker, had interrupted their longing gazes with a loud cough, and he'd shooed her into the living room, telling her to decorate the tree with her brother and friends while he finished cooking dinner.

Other than an awkward moment when April had unintentionally sat down in Ric's open seat and been simultaneously assaulted with deadly glares from him, Jeremy and Elena, prompting her to quickly scoot down one, dinner had proceeded without incident. Everything had been delicious, conversation had flowed easily, and Damon had found himself wondering numerous times at the family that had sprung up around him – that had made this the first Christmas he'd enjoyed since his own transition.

So yeah, he couldn't blame her for feeling nostalgic and a little sentimental.

"Did you get your money's worth?" He asked, winking over his shoulder as he finished the last of the dishes and closed up the dishwasher.

"Definitely," she answered with a wide grin, coming to stand close behind him.

"Have the kids all gone to bed?"

"Out actually… something about making an appearance at the Fell festivities," she replied, running one of her hands up his back and into the hair at the base of his neck, just as she'd done yesterday evening.

"Ah, Meredith. Still scheming," he said, wiping his hands a final time on the dishtowel and then turning to face her.

"Apparently," she snickered. "Remind me to send her a thank you note," she added, bringing her arms up on either side of him and gripping the counter behind him with her hands, trapping him between the sink and her body.

He'd caught her hungry gazes from time to time throughout the evening, and as much as he'd enjoyed dinner, quietly reveling in his make-shift family, and aching at how much he wanted this scene to replay itself for years to come, the matter of where said family's "parents" were headed was still very much unresolved. And while his conversation with Matt last night had assuaged some of his doubts about her feelings, he wasn't completely convinced that everything wouldn't change the minute they found the cure, if such a thing even existed.

He lightly grasped her wrists, pulling her hands away from the counter and dropping them back to her side.

"I meant what I said yesterday, Elena. Give yourself some time," he told her, hanging his head, chin against his chest, and taking a deep resigned breath. "Hell, in the meantime, maybe we'll find this mythical cure, and your fairytale romance with my brother can resume its regularly scheduled broadcast."

"Would you stop being so goddamn selfless for five minutes and hear what I'm saying," she demanded hotly, and he couldn't help but look up then, meeting her fiery eyes.

He laughed harshly, bitterly. "That's a new one." Since when had anyone, especially her, seen him as anything but selfish – certainly not selfless.

"But you are, Damon," she replied earnestly, closing the space between them, all the while keeping her eyes locked with his. "I see you, all of you, the good and the bad, and I get it now, better than I ever did before. And I think you might be the only one who can accept the same from me, who gets me now. Hell, who got me even before the fangs came in."

A half second later she had him pinned again, this time between her body and the kitchen island. "I want you. I want this," she continued, motioning with her hand between them and rubbing seductively up against him, "Bumps and all."

Damon felt the last of his resolve slipping with each impassioned word she spoke, with each passing moment that her proximity assaulted his senses, but there was one lingering question – _the_ question – standing in the scant distance between him and the woman he so desperately loved.

"Just answer me one thing," he started, bringing his hands up to cup her face and stroking her cheeks with this thumbs. "What happened to always, Elena? I can't do this if it's still always going to be Stefan."

"Damon," she breathed, her hands lightly encircling his wrists, thumbs skimming the tops of his hands. "_Always_ died on that balcony in Denver."

Something flashed in her eyes, heat, he was sure, just as he knew the same flashed in his – the both of them recalling the last time they'd gotten close enough to feel the fire between them. But that time had just been a spark, quickly extinguished by her guilt and confusion; she hadn't known what she felt then. Looking at her now, though, hearing her words yesterday and tonight, Damon knew this time was different, that she knew exactly what – _who_ – she wanted.

_Him_.

"Screw the high road," he growled before crushing their lips together in a searing kiss, giving into the passion between them – finally igniting that fire and letting it burn.

Weaving one hand into her hair and running the other down her side and around her waist, he pulled her tightly to him – hip to hip, chest to chest, mouth to mouth – kissing her soundly and pushing his growing erection against her, leaving no question as to his desire for her. She gasped, her fingers gripping his hair tightly, her nails scraping across his scalp, and he seized the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth, sliding along and tangling with hers. She moaned, the sound reverberating through the both of them, and he felt himself grow impossibly harder. Wanting her closer, he flipped their positions and hoisted her onto the granite island, smoothing his hands down her jean-clad thighs, hooking his fingers under her knees and bringing her legs up around his waist. She draped her arms behind his neck and over his shoulders, enveloping him in her embrace, and he smiled into their kiss, content at being totally wrapped up in her.

Contentment, however, quickly gave way to need once more on both their parts. Clothes were ripped and shred, thrown about carelessly, as their hands and mouths became desperate, and before he realized what was happening, Elena had him on his back on the hardwood floor as she lowered herself on his length, finally joining them together. It was his turn to gasp and she smiled coyly down at him, her nails raking across his chest, causing his eyes to roll back into this head, his senses overloaded with pleasure. She began to move on top of him, lifting and then dropping her hips rhythmically, his cock buried a little deeper inside her warm, wet center each time. He brought his hands up and over her hips, greedily kneading her skin, before one drifted back up to palm her breast and the other settled on her lower back, helping to steady her as he met her thrust for thrust. As her inner walls began to clench around him tighter, he felt his control pushed to the brink, their movements becoming increasingly erratic, and when she slammed her hips down on him one final time, and a keening wail fell from her kiss-swollen lips, he lost himself in her, letting go and tumbling over the edge with her.

Several minutes later, when he'd come back to reality and finally caught his breath, he rolled them on their sides, slipping out of her as he slung a leg over hers and tangled their lower limbs together. He wrapped his arms around her, trailing his fingers up and down her back.

"I didn't intend for our first time to be on your kitchen floor," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Yeah, well, kind of seems appropriate," she mumbled back, nuzzling his neck.

"How's that?" He asked, pulling back and meeting her sated brown eyes.

"It's kind of our place," she shrugged. "This and the front porch, and its not like we could have done _this_," she purred, looking suggestively up and down their naked bodies before meeting his eyes again, "on the front porch. That would have been indecent."

"To say the least," he smirked back at her. Bringing his hands up to cradle her face, he pushed away a few wild strands of hair that were stuck to her sweaty face. "So tell me, how much would you have paid to make this happen?"

"However much it took to make sure you were mine," she answered, leaning forward and giving him a lingering kiss.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," he mumbled against her lips with a lazy smile. "I've been yours for a long while now."

* * *

"Are you sure this will work, Jeremy?"

"If I can't get his attention the usual way, this always seems to work," Jeremy said, as he and Matt traipsed through the cemetery, whiskey bottles in hand.

"Over here, guys," Meredith called out from a short distance ahead of them, holding a whiskey bottle of her own.

They made their way over to the familiar gravestone, and then standing over it, clinked their bottles together and toasted "To Family" in his honor.

"So, how'd it go?" she asked.

"Well, we hope, but we left before they'd really had it out yet," Jeremy told her, knowing whatever was going on between his sister and Damon wouldn't be solved over dinner and a few drinks. He knew they'd get into it, for better or worse, after they left. "We're hoping he can confirm it for us."

No sooner had he spoken the words then did Jeremy hear someone clear his throat behind him. Turning, he saw his Ric sitting on his bench, grinning like an idiot.

"So?" Jeremy asked hopefully.

"Oh yeah," Ric winked, "Team Damon with the win."

**THE END**

* * *

_**WHEW! That's finally it for my LJ DE A2A Exchange fics this year. BIG THANKS to Sar (badboysarebest) for organizing and for all the participating authors. This was my first TVD fic exchange, and it was a total blast. **_

_**All of us participating have really worked around the clock lately writing, pre-reading and beta'ing these stories, so READERS, please show your thanks by leaving a review here and for any of the other fics you've enjoyed. **_


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